


Cateyes and Snakefangs

by Teobot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: American Sign Language, Chitauri - Freeform, Fluff, Friendship, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Inferiority Complex, Interrogation, Kit Has Powers, M/M, Nesting, Nick is like a dad honestly, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Prostitution, a smol boy, blankets are kitten's friend, derealization disorder, good vibes in general, like what a sweetheart, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-30 14:12:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14498760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teobot/pseuds/Teobot
Summary: When Kit was six, he was pulled from the horror-show he called home by a man called Fury. When he was 15, he got out of the foster system. When he was 17, he realized that the only way for him to make enough money to survive was to sell himself. And when he was 20, he got a call from his old friend. And so what else could he do, except everything in his power to help Nick save the world?Fall in love with the guy he's trying to get answers out of, is what.K y'all this is gonna be a slow boy for the first few chapters





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> aahhhh okay so here we go this is my first fic so be gentle

Kit Braunfeld was three seconds from bursting into tears. His Momma was gone, his Papa was gone, his little sister was gone, and he’d just been manhandled into a car by an angry man with an eyepatch. He was only six, he hadn’t thought that not listening to Papa would get him in _this_ much trouble.

\------

Fury didn’t talk to the kid the entire time they were driving. Nope, after buckling the boy into the front passenger seat he set his jaw and drove through the winding forest roads as fast as was safe. His job was to get the child out of that house, neutralize all the threats, and bring the kid back to safety. He shuddered. _That house,_ he thought, bile rising in his throat.

He had to kill two people before even getting close to that… place. After he got into the house, it was even worse. The deranged man with spines sticking out of his skin, the woman with slitted eyes and a gaping maw, and the little girl with completely black eyes had all tried to kill him, but he was faster. He had to be, with his job.

The boy he had been sent for had been in the middle of the house, sleeping in a nest of blankets and surrounded by candles. Huge slate-grey eyes had blinked up at him sleepily and shined with unshed tears.

 _Dammit,_  Fury thought. _This is gonna get me killed._


	2. The Alley Outside of Maya's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aw yeah our boy i love him so much

Kitten was up early, laying next to last night's cash cow when slid out of bed. He gingerly scooped up his pants and shirt, quietly slipping them on while keeping a wary eye on the joe who had kept him company last night. He frowned softly as he counted the tens on the bedside table and sighed. Just enough to get him off the streets again, if only for a night. Maybe a hot meal at Maya’s, if he was smart about his spending.

And so before the joe could wake up, Kitten was up and out the door, pocketing the wad of tens and the wedding band the man had slipped off just before approaching him.

He walked down the street slowly, taking in the beginnings of the morning sun, and dodged the ever-present bustle of people in New York. He kept his eyes downcast as he made his way through the mass of people and ducked into the diner just inside an alley.

Maya’s had always been like a second home to him, as he had found it just after getting out of the foster system. Maya had somewhat disregarded the child labor laws, and had him working full time in the kitchen when he showed up. Kitten had never been one for school, anyways. Maya payed him well and never asked any weird things, just that he keep mum about the men who came around with strange packages in the middle of the night. It didn’t concern him, so he never had anything to worry about.

The diner itself was pretty nice. It wasn’t all smokey, and the gentle red light had always calmed him just enough to keep the panic attacks away when other people tried to talk to him. The tables were round and sparse, and the place was always clean.

It was nice and soft, just like Maya herself. Who was apparently serving some more strange people in her usual fashion, which meant she was dancing again.

“Hey, Alley Cat,” Maya purred, winking at him as she spun around, slamming down glasses and plates on tables.“Got somethin’ here for ya.”

Kitten nodded, heading towards the bar. He took a seat on one of the tall stools, drawing his right knee to his chest as he bowed his back out and kicked the bar wall with his other foot. He nodded gratefully as Maya passed him a plate, delicately picking up the sandwich as he set down a ten from his pocket. He had to be careful, this was his only outfit.

“Got someone here for ya, too, Kitty.”

Kitten’s nodded his head again, the grip on his sandwich tightening a bit. People who came looking for him weren’t usually nice.

“Tall, black, eyepatch, and a scowl like nobody’s business. Kinda my style, but his jacket smelled like somethin’ you’re more with. Says he knows ya, but then again lotsa people say they know ya.” Maya started working on the glasses, her voice softening a bit as she polished them. “Says his name is Nick, and he asked for Kit.”

Kit stilled. In one second, he was perfectly fine, and then his mind was going everywhere, a mix of joy and worry and confusion and he set his sandwich back on the plate and uncurled his leg.

“Wanna go back and see ‘im?”

Kitten nodded and stood, stepping lightly to the beads that heralded the doorway to the back, and hesitated only a second before slipping through them.

The hallway to the back was lit dimly with some strange gas lights, but Kitten liked them. They added a soft ambiance to the air that kept him from floating away like he did under fluorescents.

The door to the back was oak and located at the far end of the hallway. The handle was brass and it screamed at Kitten as he reached for it. His hand muffled the screaming just a bit and he opened the door and entered the room. Closing the door behind him, he pursed his lips and sat down on the loveseat in front of Fury.

“Hey, kid. It’s been a while.”

Kitten nodded, looking at his hands.

“I heard you dropped out of foster care a while back. That true?”

Kitten looked up, a small smile on his face. Fury knew exactly what had happened, he didn’t need any confirmation.

“Thought so. We’re gonna talk about that.” Fury placed his fingertips together and leaned back on the pink plushy sofa that Maya so adored. It looked strange, but Kitten didn’t comment on it. “Listen, Kit, I need your help.”

Kitten nodded, raising his eyebrows, tilting his head, and widening his eyes to let Nick know he was listening. It wasn’t often the man asked for anything, let alone help.

“There’s a certain someone who isn’t being very nice to us right now. He’s a threat, and we need you there when we get him because I have a few questions I’d like to ask him.”

_ Ah. An interrogation job. _ It had been a while since Kit had taken any of those and he was intrigued, but he hesitated. His voice was… unreliable, to say the least, and it had been for a while now. Could he be of any help? He knew other ways to get people to talk, but knowing Fury there would be cameras and Kit had a bit of dignity that he wanted to save.

“I know you’re worried about your voice, but it won’t be a problem. You can take the time you need for now. I just need you there.” Fury looked serious. The gunsmoke-smelling jacket helped clear Kit’s mind and for a second, he wanted to say no.

So he stood up and nodded once, a jerky kind of movement, and placed his hand out in front of him, palm up. Fury took it and grasped it firmly, pulling himself out of the sofa. The Nick-shaped indent kept its form for a moment and then disappeared, pushed up and away by the thick cottony stuff in the cushions.

Fury gave Kit a once-over and sighed. “Let’s go then.”

Kit let go of Fury’s hand and swayed in place once, twice, thrice, and took three steps to the right. One step back. One, two steps forward. Spun 360, arms slightly raised, and one, two more steps forward. He grabbed the backpack Maya kept for him off the dresser and slipped the cash from his pocket into the main part of the thing. He spun again, 90 degrees this time, and took one, two, three, four big steps to Fury, swaying once, twice before blinking owlishly at the man and yawning. He was usually sleeping right now, given his job, but it didn’t matter. If Nick needed help, he was there.

So he tugged on the man’s jacket sleeve and pulled him into the closet. If people saw Kitten leave the regular way, they’d ask Maya where he was going with the older man. Kitten wasn’t about to do that to Maya’s reputation, so he pulled open the trap door on the backside of the closet and pushed it open. Just big enough for Fury to fit through without much hassle. If the older man raised his eyebrow, Kitten didn’t care. He tugged Nick through the hole and came out into the alley that paralleled Maya’s, then slipped back into the foot traffic, keeping a hold on Nick’s jacket.

“Turn here, and this car is mine.”

Kitten did as directed and slipped into the nondescript black car, taking his seat in the middle of the back row. The woman in the driver’s seat looked at him strange and he looked down, blushing a bit. He knew what he looked like.

A street hooker with a ratty bomber jacket, threadbare skinny jeans, barely held-together sneakers, and a cut-up T-shirt with suspicious stains. Scrappily-cut hair fell over his eyes in oily strips and he was sure he smelled like stale sex and back-alley sandwiches, and paired with darting brown eyes nothing about him fit. He was so very out of place in a nice looking car with the man who had saved him and an incredibly immaculate woman, and he felt it. And he knew it, clear as he knew the sky was darkening and the person he was supposed to interrogate was dangerous.

“Agent Hill, this is Agent Braunfeld.”

Kit didn’t look up at his new title.

“He will be conducting the interrogation once we capture Loki, and you will defer and report to him. He will report directly to me, and we should be good.” Fury turned his head to the immaculate woman, Agent Hill, and looked at her even though she kept her eyes on the road. “Understood?” Kitten forgot to breathe as he waited for her answer.

Agent Hill nodded, and Kit remembered to breathe. And as she drove on, he found his breathing getting easier as he drifted away at the silence. The slow stop-and-to of early morning traffic lulled him into sleep as he rested his head on his arm, which was perched elbow up on the window sill-type thing on the doors in cars. He never had known what they were called, but it didn’t really matter.

If he did this right, he could go back to Maya’s and it wouldn’t have to matter.

And with that, the lull of rosepetal darkness drew him into her bosom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a sweetheart he's so soft


	3. A Bath

He woke up when the car rolled to a stop. Just for a few seconds, of course, because he fell right back asleep. But it counted.

He woke up for real on a ship. He was in a bed and everything was moving just enough to let him know that he wasn’t on land anymore. So he got stood up like he had this morning and found the door out. And he walked aimlessly through hospital blue halls until he found a true way out. And he stepped into the sun, taking in where he was.

It was very big, bigger than anything he had ever seen, and he was amazed. Every bit of it was gunmetal gray and seasalt and excitement and he wished he could tell someone about it but his voice was still all wrong for the moment and he had to settle for gasping in amazement.

The lady next to him, a carrot-top form of calmly-masked aggression, huffed out a laugh at his reaction.

“Fury would like your reaction.”

Kitten nodded absently, eyes still fixated on the magnificent expanse of saltwater that had swallowed so much and remained so confusing. He wanted to swim in it, just a bit. He wouldn’t, because that was dangerous right now, but one day. He looked sideways at the red woman and wondered if she liked swimming.

And then, because she couldn’t answer a question he couldn't ask, she turned her back to the ocean and smiled wryly at him.

“I’ll be back, Agent Braunfeld. I’ve gotta go get the good doctor, but you should be seeing everyone else soon, kiddo.” Her voice was honey. It tasted very strange in his mind but that didn’t matter because she was raw honey and that was good honey in his book. So he nodded and smiled a little back because he didn’t want to be rude to a lady made of red honey and he suddenly realized that he was still dirty and still a prostitute. He flushed in chagrin, eyes immediately going down to the runway blacktop as he curled in on himself a bit.

He would have liked to say goodbye as she chose not to comment on his body language and walked towards a plane, but he couldn't and so he settled with waving shyly at a back. And he decided to find his backpack. Maya usually kept something for him in there, be it clothes or food or whatever the Morrigu deemed fit to tell her.

He retraced his steps to the room he woke up in and cheered in his head as he saw the orange satchel right by the door. Kneeling down and unzipping it slowly, he released a breath as he thought of Maya and her strange altars. What a strange woman he had been picked up by.

Unzipping the bag the rest of the way, he now had more clothes. And, if he wasn’t wrong, that little door to the right of the bed heralded a shower. And toiletries, if he was lucky enough.

As it turned out, he  _ was _ lucky enough. He washed himself quickly, as he usually did, and remembered to towel himself off before he changed into his new clothes.

Kit soon sat on his bed in a slate-gray tee and dark denim jeans, boot cut. He had black socks and ankle converse, and to top it off he had an evergreen bomber jacket, replacing his old blue one. Baggy jackets always made him feel safer, and bless Maya for knowing that.

So he walked right back out, feeling a modicum more prepared for his new job, and managed small smiles at the staff he walked by on his way to find Nick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean i think he's a doll honestly he's a tired boy


	4. Maria Hill

Nick, as it turned out, was in the ship. A few flights of stairs, some hastily-remembered sign language, and a wonderful, sharp man got him into a cavern of a room that was lined with windows and computers.

Agent Hill was who he saw first on his search for people he knew, but she made him a bit uncomfortable so he kept looking for that tell-tale bald head.

He found it about a second later, given that Fury was right next to Agent Hill, and huffed. So he started his way down to them, and tapped Nick on the shoulder after he stepped onto the platform. Nick spun around, not looking surprised, and clapped Kitten on the back with what the boy could only describe as a shit-eating grin.

“Here you are,” he said. Kit gave a hesitant nod, paired with an equally hesitant smile, and patted Nick’s coat sleeve.

“Come on,” the man said. He started off, leaving Agent Hill on the platform, and Kitten hurried to follow. Fury whisked down the corridor and into a white room with lots of things Kitten neither knew the names of nor how to use. With a flick of his hand, Nick pulled up lots of fake screens and brought Kitten in front of them.

“These people are our attack force. I’m calling them the Avengers, and you’ll be working with them. They’ll capture Loki for us, and you’ll get us the information we need from him.” Kit nodded when Fury looked sharply at him, and Kit tapped his fingers three times against his pant leg. He remembered Maya calling it a nervous tic once, and with the memory in mind the tic got worse.

With another wave of his hand, Nick brought up video clips of people, of Kit’s new ‘team’. A blonde man with a blue and red shield, fighting an onslaught of soldiers. A man in what Kit assumed was a metal suit, fighting a man with electric tentacle-arms. A man with a hammer destroying a metal form. A gigantic green figure jumping around, smashing things. A man shooting a bunch of arrows and a redhead woman fighting off multiple people at once.

The redheaded honey woman from the deck, Kit realized. He had met her. He liked her. He was a part of her team. He smiled.

Pointing to the woman, Kit looked at Nick. There didn’t have to be a question in his eyes for Nick to know what he was asking, but sometimes it helped.

“Natasha Romanoff. She’s a spy working for Shield and she’s the one who usually gets our information, but this time I made a different call.” And, though not for the first time, Kit realized that Nick Fury was a pine tree. Prickly, hardy, and amazing. He’d brave the winters and flourish no matter what.

_God help the person who tries to cut him down._

And then it hit Kit that he had replaced some of what she did. Nick had weaseled Kit in and she might resent him for it. And that modicum of preparedness the shower had brought was gone, replaced with chills and the base undertone of being an outsider.

So he pointed to all the others in the same fashion, trying to see what other dynamics he had jostled in his want to help his friend. He probably shouldn’t have felt _that_ bad, but he did. He couldn’t help it.

One super soldier, one genius, one god, one explanation of gamma radiation, and one tidbit of information on why ‘Hawkeye’ wouldn’t be joining him later, Kit was ready to sleep again. To leave this too-bright room, go back to his little bed in his assigned spot in the ship, make a nest, and sleep off his coming panic attack. Maybe by the time he woke up, he’d feel better. He’d be better.

He tapped Fury on the shoulder and folded his hands when the man looked at him, placing them against his cheek with a reassuring smile.

Nick raised an eyebrow but nodded, looking back to the screens. Kit took that as his cue to leave, and quietly stepped out of the room. The gentle hiss of hydraulics closed the door behind him and he started his way back to his room.

Before he could get there, however, he ran into Agent Hill. She had spotted him as she was walking down a bisecting hallway and before Kitten had the chance to duck away (which was a silly idea in the first place, this ship didn’t have alleys), she had called out and acknowledged him. Now he couldn’t avoid her without seeming rude, and he refused to be anything near.

“Agent Braunfeld, hey!”

Kitten nodded hesitantly, brows immediately drawing together and accentuating the exhaustion that still plagued him still, even though he had just finished what he assumed to be a very long nap.

Agent Hill jogged up to him, some papers in her hand, and smiled wryly at him.

“I don’t think we ever got a proper introduction.” Her voice was a pedicure sponge. It was scratchy against his head, but it felt nice at the same time. He couldn’t tell whether or not he liked her. So he nodded.

“I’m Agent Maria Hill, Director Fury’s second-in-command. You can call me whatever you like.” She looked at him expectantly, and all Kitten could do was awkwardly nod and smile. When he didn’t give verbal confirmation, she continued.

“I was wondering- ah, do you have any powers? Or any specific skill set? Or like, an alias? Because Director Fury wasn’t really clear on anything other than that you’d lead the interrogation when we capture Loki.” Another expectant look, and Kitten wanted to curl up. She would need an answer, and his voice was still all wrong for the moment. So he pointed at her stack of papers and mimed writing something down. Agent Hill caught on quickly, and it only took her half a second to procure a pen and a paper that he could safely write on. A few seconds of chicken-scratch later, he gave her the paper back, and she raised her eyebrows.

_Nick likes to call me 'Verbatim'_

_Empath with mild compulsory powers and complete hyperthymesia_

“Well,” she said after a second, a smile falling onto her lips. “I’m either going to need a dictionary or someone who’s way smarter than I am because I get ‘Empath,’ ‘mild,’ and ‘complete.’ Kit bit back a smile and motioned for the paper and pen back. Another few seconds of chicken-scratch and he handed it back again.

 _I can feel what other people are feeling and alter it a bit, and I remember absolutely_ _everything_ _I’ve ever experienced_

And when Agent Hill grinned at him, scratch on her face and all, he felt immediately better. For some reason, when she smiled at him he felt a million times more prepared and he felt like Nick had picked the right person for the job. He grinned back and handed her the pen with a slight blush and a lighter heart.

“Well that’s really all I needed for now,” Agent Hill said. “You were probably going somewhere, so I’ll leave you to it. We’ll call you down when we need you, so be ready.”

Kit nodded and waved soft goodbyes as she jogged back down the hallway and turned, leaving his line of sight. He meandered back to his room, taking tangents sometimes to better get a layout of this floor of the ship, and sat down on his bed. The pending panic that had set in with inadequacy was basically gone with Agent Hill’s quiet reassurances and now he was just tired. Emotions brought exhaustion, but it was one that he welcomed. To feel was to human, and he liked the reminder sometimes.

He laid himself on top of the covers, bunching the thin duvet-like thing into itself to create a Kit-shaped spot in his little nest. His stomach growled- he hadn’t eaten anything save for the bite of sandwich at Maya’s and he frowned, but closed his eyes anyways. Sleep was more important than food right now, and his limbs agreed.

He relaxed into the blanket and slowed his breathing, setting himself into the white room in his head.

And he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually kinda liked Agent Hill in the movies like she was a p lit lady


	5. As They Do

He woke up to darkness. All surrounding, suffocating, complete. The sun was down, he knew that much, and the moon tonight would be new so there was no true reprieve until four in the morning when the sun said hello and the birds started calling him back from hell. His breath came out ragged and jittery, and his fingers dug into the blanket so hard he felt the fabric give way under his nails.

His throat closed and his back arched and bowed as phantom pains cut across his stomach, and he felt like puking. He could barely breathe and he couldn’t remember where he was but his little sister was laughing and his Momma was snarling something and Papa was hitting him and he just wanted to go back to the safety of his nest and he wanted to light the candles. He saw blood blooming up through his shirt- his new shirt- and terror burned his eyes and he couldn’t scream because that made everything worse and he couldn’t talk because that made everyone worse and his skin was boiling and his heart was pounding and his legs were breaking and he was numb.

He was numb.

He was numb.

He was numb.

He was numb.

He was numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> describing your panic attacks 101


	6. Phil and Depersonalization

The sun had come out, and the day was going to be so very clear. Kit had taken and deep breath and walked out to find Nick because he was so ridiculously hungry and he still had some money for food if they needed it. He didn’t think they would, but better safe than sorry.

He had gotten ready for the day at four thirty and was out and about by four thirty five, and he had found the mess hall by four forty. Not only that, but he had found the sharp-looking man who had helped him find Nick and began a pleasant conversation in halting sign language about what the man did on the ship. When they had ordered their food, the man had translated to the server, which gave Kit ridiculously warm fuzzies in his stomach, and he was so very grateful.

He learned that the man’s name was Phil, and his aunt on his mother’s side was deaf. The man was an orphan, same as Kit, and he was very kind. He didn’t press about Kit’s family much, and it was clear the man was trying not to laugh when Kit had named Nick Fury as his father figure. Kit had near giggled at the response he had gotten, and before he knew it, they were heading to the bridge together.

As they ‘spoke’, Kit steadily remembered more sign language and soon they were trading puns and dirty jokes as they walked. More than once they had to move each other out of the way of some people walking down the halls, and that only brought on more almost-giggles.

And then they reached the bridge.

Nick was looking out over the sea of computers, and he turned sharply when Phil had addressed him.

“Ah, so you two have met.” Nick’s voice was something close to pleased, and Kit grinned, nodding an emphatic affirmation.

“Well then I guess I won’t have to introduce you because you’ll be working together. It seems that you’ve already made nice, so I’ll get straight to it. Agent Braunfeld, this is Agent Coulson. He just got back from Stark Tower and he’s going right now to pick up Steve Rogers.”

Phil looked up sharply at the mention of what Kit remembered as the blonde supersoldier.

“Sir?”

Nick looked less than impressed but still pleasant enough. “Yes, Agent Coulson. But try not to come off too strong; the man’s just found his place and now we’re moving it.”

Phil looked a bit put out, frowning just the tiniest bit as he wilted. Kit patted his arm and signed good luck, and he got a small smile in return. A small smile and a victory, Kit decided.

“You’re excused, Agent Coulson. I expect you back soon, with Mr. Rogers in tow.” Kit’s lips twitched down for a second at the sharp dismissal, but didn’t say anything. Phil was a big boy, and Nick was his superior. And so with a small wave to Kit, Phil was gone and it was five in the morning.

Nick didn’t say much as he turned back and surveyed the computers and their respective humans again.

“Agent Romanoff will be coming back soon with Doctor Banner. I want you there to meet them. They should be getting back around the time Coulson and Rogers get back, so we probably have some time. I gave Agent Hill your brief, so go find her and be back by nine.”

Kit jumped to attention, saluting Fury and grinned at the man’s eye-roll. Kit dropped his hand and spun on his right foot, bouncing out of the room with a spring in his step to go find Agent Hill.

As it turned out, she was just getting to the mess hall. She had woken up at five sharp and Kit wondered for a second if Nick ever slept. It didn’t matter though, and as he sat down next to a well-rested looking Agent Hill, he was pleased to see a notebook and a pen on top of her clipboard.

She had looked up as soon as he touched the seat next to her, a smile flitting across her lips as a sausage-smelling fork dropped back down to the plate. As she finished chewing, she took the pen and notebook and handed them to Kit, who was liking her better and better.

“I got these for you,” she said, swallowing whatever she had just finished eating. “Figured they could help out for people who don’t have this stuff on hand.”

Kit beamed at her, still all glowy after meeting Phil, and hurriedly uncapped the ballpoint pen. Two seconds of chicken-scratch and he showed her the first page of the notebook.

She laughed, and it was a nice sound. “No need to thank me, I just thought it would help. Oh, by the way,” she turned back to her clipboard and pulled a paper out, then turned back and handed it to Kit. “These are the questions Fury gave me for you. They should be relatively easy to get, but Loki is known for being a grade A asshole, so anything you can get out of him should be fine.”

Kit nodded his thanks as he looked over the sheet. All pretty basic, mostly just character questions. Who are you, why are you here, who are you working for, what are their weaknesses, etc. After getting the basic rundown of the questions, he folded up the paper and put it in his coat pocket.

_ Thank you _ , he wrote. Agent Hill glanced at the paper and grinned back at him.

“No problem, Agent Braunfeld.”

And so for the next few hours, he pestered her with questions about everything he could think of. Her family, what she thought of all the personnel (apparently Johnny down in engineering has a stash of contraband thin-mints, if ever you need them), and what had happened with the scratch on her face. Kit sat in rapt awe as she regailed him with tails of how she  _ almost _ got Loki, the person he was going to interrogate, in a ridiculously dangerous car chase, and how he had mind-controlled Dr. Erik Selvig and Agent Clint Barton with his scepter. How the entire lab had imploded in an energy burst, and how she just managed to get out alive.

And then she hesitated. Just for half a second, just enough for Kit to notice.

Because this was information Kit wasn’t privy to.

And he was horrified.

So with a smile and five seconds of chicken-scratch, he told her he needed to go and make sure he had something in his backpack, and that he hadn’t lost it. Agent Hill nodded and went back to her clipboard, making notes on whatever she was doing.

As Kitten padded through the halls to his room, the fluorescent lights got to be too much and he had to scrunch his eyes closed to keep from falling out of himself. Of course, that didn’t help, but he tried.

And when he opened his eyes, it was to himself walking down the hallway with a blank look on his face. Kitten’s eyes were dead again as he watched himself walk as if he was stepping on glass, and his heart broke again as he started to cry, his shoulders shaking as he watched himself open the door and make his way under the covers of his bed. He had made Agent Hill tell him those things. Agent Hill, who had told him her first name and how she really liked baklava, even if it was messy and she didn’t think it fit her personality. Who really liked Nick, thought of him as an uncle, and respected him more than anyone else. Who was secretly really in love with the show ‘White Collar’, much to her own chagrin.

She told him things. She had just met him and she had told him so much and he was tricking her he was lying to her he was gonna be sick. He had accidentally used his compulsion, it had spread like a fog and it had enveloped her and she should have had time to tell him on her own, to get to know him and trust him enough to tell him at her own pace and instead he had messed up and made her tell him.

Even if it wasn’t on purpose.

Even if he didn’t mean it.

_ Actions have consequences _ , his Papa had told him.

Consequences that hurt. Not only him, but the people around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he need some love


	7. Broken Bread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnnnnnnnnnnn

It had time for dinner and Kit was to stay in his bed, not leave the candle circle. If he left the circle, Momma had made it very clear that he’d get punished. He wasn’t allowed to talk either, and if any of them heard a peep from him they’d go get the sticks and he’d be very, very sorry.

His stomach had growled and he keened; a soft, high-pitched sound. He was five and he was so hungry. He hadn’t had anything to eat since Wednesday and it was Friday. He didn’t mean to make the sound, it had come out on instinct. And with it, his little sister.

She was a little thing of three, with the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They were completely black and they saw through walls. She was vicious and ruthlessly loyal to Kit, and with her came a piece of bread slathered with butter. Her name was Markie and she made sure not to step inside the candle circle as she passed it to him, her eyes widening in awe. He didn’t know why her eyes did that every time she looked at him, but it always made him nervous.

He looked down as he accepted the bread and took small bites, trying to make it seem like more than it was. Chew slow, take small bites, it lasts longer.

It was gone too fast.

He looked at Markie, who was still standing just outside the circle of candles, as if waiting for something.

“Thank you,” Kit whispered as softly as he could, putting as much appreciation into his words as he could. Markie seemed to preen, her eyes going half lidded as she nodded and backed out of the room.

And just as her eyes had closed, Kit’s got bigger as Momma stepped into the doorway, a sad look on her face.

Kit almost started to cry as another whimper fell from his lips involuntarily and Momma’s eyes widened in fear. She hissed at him and raised her hand, palm flat, threatening him. Kit flinched and the acrid burn of terror in his throat bubbled up into soft cries that shook his body as he tried to cover his mouth. As he tried to stop the sounds.

His Momma took Markie out of the room and while Papa wouldn’t be back for a while, Kit was still in for it. He had made a sound, and he was gonna get hurt because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all ready? cuz i ain't


	8. Candles and Sticks

Papa had come home.

Kit was still in his bed, frantically wiping tears from his eyes as he tried to keep himself from bursting into tears again. The air smelled like ammonia and he wanted to throw up, but he didn’t have enough food in his tummy to safely do so. So he stayed in his bed, legs under the covers as he sat up, leaning against the headboard. His little head bobbed as he tried not to succumb to sleep. It was always bad when Papa came in and Kit was asleep. He got hit worse, and Papa was less likely to be nice afterwards.

To keep from sleep, Kit ran through the song his real Momma had sung him sometimes when he was smaller.

_ Tili Tili bom, zakroy glaza skoree, kto-to hodit za oknom I stuchitsya v dveri. Tili Tili bom, krichit nochnaya ptitsa, on ezhe probralsya v dom k- _

Papa snarled as he slammed the door open and Kit was knocked off the bed and out of his thoughts with a sharp blow to the head. Candles be damned, Papa was in the circle and angry again as he swung his stick to the side and brought it down with a resounding crack on Kit’s left leg.

Kit barely held in a cry of pain, and he paid the resurging tears no mind as his little fingers sought to soothe and protect the injured area. Probably broken again, but the thought was passing as Papa hit him again, this time in the stomach. This time, Kit couldn’t help the huff of pain and the small whimper afterwards, and Papa’s eyes grew clouded.

Kit almost screamed as Papa started bring the stick down faster, hitting harder, all inhibitions and thoughts of mercy gone. Everything hurt and then it hurt more, and Kit knew that he would eventually have to pass out in pain before anything stopped because that was what always had to happen when Papa was like this.

The thick, metallic scent of blood mixed with the tang of bile as Kit’s stomach heaved, and the bread that Markie had given him made its way back up. It mixed with tears in a pool around his cheek, and Kit coughed weakly.

As he teetered on the verge of unconsciousness, Papa stopped hitting him. He tossed the stick on the ground and snarled at Kit, then scooped the boy up. The spines on the back of the man’s arms raised slightly, shifting with the weight. Papa dropped Kit off into Momma’s arms, and Markie followed the woman as they made their way to the bathroom.

“Be silent,” Papa hissed at Kit as he opened his mouth. Kit nodded, even though he was just trying to breathe easier.

Papa’s voice was terrible. It was scratchy and low and it ran over Kit’s ears like razors. Momma’s wasn’t much better, like sand in Kit’s teeth and radio static. Markie was the only one in the house with a blank voice. Her voice was a void; it held neither substance nor emotion, and it was the only one Kit could stand.

The bathroom was, like the rest of the house, cold. The water from the river was even colder, and as Markie ran a bath, Kit’s eyelids drooped. He was so very tired and if he could just fall asleep before the water touched him then he’d sleep through whatever happened next.

Kit closed his eyes and ran through the song again.

_ Tili Tili bom, zakroy glaza skoree, kto-to hodit za oknom I stuchitsya v dveri. Tili Tili bom, krichit nochnaya ptitsa, on ezhe probralsya v dom… _

And sleep welcomed him, softly covering his ears and holding Kit against her.

Kit didn’t dwell on the fact that sleep looked like his real Momma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this allowed? i-is this allowed?


	9. UPDATE

Hey so I’m. A useless gay (what’s new?) and I just wanted to say two things:

1\. I am. So sorry that I haven’t updated in so long. I got busy and then I forgot and then I really wanted to write more but stress took away inspiration so I’m just really sorry

2\. I fucking refuse to give this up. I’ll write it if it kills me. I’m going to post it as a different work, in a different style. Same characters, same idea, honestly? same fucking chapters probably, just in a way that I can manage and will be happy with. I’ll update this again once I’ve got it up, I just wanted to touch base and apologize

So coolio beans my gucci gucci gays I’ll see you on the mcfuckin flip side


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